The Rebels With a Cause
by Randomnormality
Summary: The hero of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter, consults with four American Sorcerers and they devise a plan to fix it. To fix everything. Even if they have to break one of the most critical laws known to Wizards and Witches alike. Rated M for language, adult humor and future graphic violence.
1. Prologue

**Rebels With A Cause**

**Summary:**

The Second War has ended, but at a great cost. With half of the Wizarding Population dead and the other half left to pick up the pieces, there is little hope that those left will be able to keep the Wizarding World alive. The hero of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter, consults with four American Sorcerers and they devise a plan to fix it.

To fix _everything._

Even if they have to break one of the most critical laws known to Wizards and Witches alike.

* * *

**Prologue**  
_No Turning Back_  
_'Dude, you had me at 1976.'_

* * *

Hidden beneath the hood of his traveling cloak, Harry James Potter stares up at the beautiful, two-story cabin surrounded by the thick forest. Nestled in a valley of the north-east mountain ranges of the United States of America, the cabin was well-hidden and off-the-beaten-track. So well hidden in fact that most of the Wizarding World wouldn't recognize it as one of the Dorm Houses for The Salem Academy of Sorcery; the school a well-kept secret that only plays as a word of mouth between sorcery students.

Most Wizards wouldn't be caught dead associating with Sorcerers; the magic used in the Americas far more different than the magic used in the rest of the world of magic.

Then again, Harry Potter is not like other Wizards, and is desperate enough to approach the Sorcerers.

Inhaling deeply and steeling his nerves, he knocks firmly on the oak door.

"We didn't order any Girl Scout Cookies!"

Despite the difficult months he's experienced, Harry can't help the small smile that tugs along the edges of his lips. When he had secretly contacted the Dean of The Salem Academy, he had been informed that the group residing in this particular Dorm House were some of the best. When he told the Dean that the mission he carries is one that breaks several different Wizarding laws, the Dean simply chuckled and insisted that the residents of _The Den_ are often searching for new adventures and often push the boundaries of rules and regulations.

Harry had always been told Americans are an odd collection of people.

"I'm not a Girl Scout," Harry replies.

A moment of silence passes before the door pulls open, Harry's gaze immediately settling on the tall, lanky teen standing in the threshold. Warm light-blue eyes meet his own before the quickly sweep over Harry's figure.

"Uh...whatever you're selling, we aren't interested."

"The Dean of your school pointed me in this direction," Harry explains.

The boy, almost on the verge of manhood, looks up thoughtfully, humming to himself, before shaking his head, "I can't think of why. Dean Harvest tries to avoid associating with us as much as possible. I think Syn gives her migraines or something along those lines."

"I'm not here for Dean Harvest's interests, but for my own," Harry reasons, "If I may speak with you and the other residents."

The boy glances him over once more before sighing, "Well, I suppose. C'mon in."

Stepping into the cabin, Harry removes his cloak and hangs it on one of the several hooks along the entrance wall. Calmly following the boy further into the cabin, Harry winces as the auburn-haired teen lets out a shrill whistle, calling up for the other residents to 'get their asses down here'.

From his seat on the arm chair, Harry watches as a shy-looking brunette hustles into the living room. From the flour smeered across her cheek, Harry guesses she came from the kitchen. Her brown curls are pulled onto the top of her head, the wire-framed reading glasses a vintage-style. A faint blush stains her powdered cheeks as she soft tawny eyes meet Harry's as she takes a seat on the couch next to the boy; who instantly wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"This better be good. I working on my new project."

The sultry voice is accompanied by the soft 'clicks' of high heels as a beautiful strawberry-blonde saunters up the step from a staircase; most likely leading to a basement. The blonde is the epitome of beauty: hourglass curves, aristocratic features and flawless complexion. She gracefully takes a seat on the empty cushion on the unoccupied side of the brunette.

Heavy, quick footsteps sound from upstairs and disappears suddenly, Harry's eyes drawn toward the figure gliding down the staircase along the top of the railing. Heavy boot-clad feet thump on the ground as the petite, raven-haired girl lands solidly at the base of the stairs. The tossled layers of her hair gives her a windswept look, the length falling no further than the middle of her neck. Bright green eyes instantly meets Harry's dark emerald, Harry swallows slightly at the sharpness of her gaze, as well as the perculiar starburst of silver wrapping around her pupils.

"Are we getting expelled?" the raven-haired girl questions, her voice carrying a femininely husky tone.

"Um, no. Apparently, Harvest sent this guy here for some reason."

The raven-haired girl hums, her suspicious glance at Harry not going unnoticed as she drops carelessly in the empty arm chair; her body leaning against one arm as one leg hangs over the other, "Okay. Does the stranger have a name?"

Harry clears his throat, "My name is Harry Potter."

The raven-haired girl lets out a long, low whistle, "Wow. Okay. Well, whatever it is that yous were told, we didn't do it."

Harry can't help but chuckle lowly at the girl's dry humor, "I'm not here for anything but my own benefit."

"You do know Wizards and Witches kinda hate us, yes?" the blonde snarks.

"I know, but I've run out of ideas. The Ministry expects me to be able to...fix everything and re-establish order, but...I can't. Everyone..." Harry's gaze drops to his hands, "Everyone I know and love is dead."

"So, what do you want from us?"

"From what I understand, Sorcery doesn't fall under Wizarding laws, and I was hoping to find a group of individuals that are willing to help me do what _needs_ to be done, despite the reprecussions it might cause."

Harry watches as blatant interest appears on all four faces, the raven-haired girl sitting upright, "What exactly do you want us to do?"

Meeting their gazes, Harry realizes that, for some reason, the other three are leaving the choice up to the raven-haired girl. Perhaps, there is something special about her. All four are blatantly different than each other; but the sense of unfalible trust the other three have in the girl is curious. The raven-haired girl is rather tiny; the shortest of the four and her build seems slight and petite on all fronts. Searching her gaze, Harry notices the curiosity and...willingness to help.

"I want you to go back in time and stop Voldemort before he starts the First War," when he receives no responses, Harry sighs, "In 1981, Voldemort died when he tried to kill me as a baby. Between 1981 and 1976, Voldemort began to gain more followers that allowed him to become one of the most feared Wizards in our history. I, for obvious reasons, cannot go back, due to the connection I've always had with him, and will always have with him."

"What year exactly are we going back to?"

Harry swallows thickly at the boy's question, "A friend of mine managed to uncover a spell that will send you back to 1976. You will be re-written into the timeline, as if you've lived there you're whole life, but you will have all of the knowledge I have in here," Harry removes a small, leather-bound notepad from the breast pocket of his blazer jacket, "Use it to end Voldemort before he leaves our world in shambles."

"You do know that our involvement may very well change _everything_. You may not even be born."

Harry's eyes hardened with determination, "If that's what it takes to save everyone I've ever come to know and love, then so be it. Please. I know I'm asking a lot, for you to give up your lives here, but...I know if I went to any of my fellow Wizards, I'd be thrown in St. Mungos or Azkaban."

The raven-haired girl chuckles, leaning forward to snatch the leather-bound notepad from his hand, "Dude, you had me at 1976."

Unable to hold back the chuckle, Harry shakes his head.

And other Wizards worry about the sanity of Sorcerers.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, so this is the beginning of a new story. I've been playing around with this one for awhile now and so far, I have enjoyed writing it. This story is obviously going to turn into an A/U story and will contain four Original Characters. I am going to be toying with the characters from the Marauder's era. There will be humor, romance, friendship, hurt/comfort, and tons of other things.**

**I want you, my readers, to being involved with the story, so aside from the eventual Sirius/Synthia (OC) romance, I welcome any of your ideas and who you think fits. I promise, this WILL contain James/Lily at some point, but I am open for any of your thoughts (I have no problem writing mild-slash, but I won't dive into too many details). I urge you all to watch how my OC's interact with canon-characters and come up with ANY types of relationships (romantic or friendly/sibling) that you want to see develop. As the story progresses, more character quirks will appear in my OC's, because lets face it, we don't just tell everyone our problems and issues at first meeting.**

**Let me know what you guys think and tell me what you want to see.**


	2. Chapter One

**Rebels With A Cause**

**Summary:**

The Second War has ended, but at a great cost. With half of the Wizarding Population dead and the other half left to pick up the pieces, there is little hope that those left will be able to keep the Wizarding World alive. The hero of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter, consults with four American Sorcerers and they devise a plan to fix it.

To fix _everything._

Even if they have to break one of the most critical laws known to Wizards and Witches alike.

* * *

**Chapter One**  
_The Exchange_  
_'Kinda like this one, only fresher.'_

* * *

Synthia Eris is a people-watcher. She may not like them as a whole, but she always finds herself watching them. It didn't really matter where she is, or in this case _when_, but she always observes every movement, expression and twitch a person makes; down to the microscopic ticks of nervousness or the subtle tension of irritation and growing anger.

With a single cigarette pressed between her lips, her silver-flecked green eyes sweeps over the numerous families kissing their children goodbye; as said children board the red, illustrious steam engine known as the Hogwarts Express. The thin leather jacket thrown over her (not-so) vintage _Ramones_ t-shirt kept the cool, damp atmosphere surrounding England from affecting her. Leaning against a wall, one boot-clad foot raised off the ground and planted solidly against the wall behind her, she catches sight of familiar light-blue eyes as an auburn-haired sixteen-year-old boy boards the train behind two familiar girls.

She had sent them on ahead. Not so much for their sake, but more for her own. She knows that the next five years are tantamount to the existence of the magical world as a whole. It was one of two reasons she agreed to take this mission. Voldemort would never stop at targeting selected witches and wizards; it took only a few hours to brush up on her Wizarding lingo. Muggle (or Non-Magic-Folk) is not a term used among Sorcerers. Most that develop abilities of sorcery are not born from magical bloodlines.

She is not like others of her breed; both of her parents trained masters in their class of sorcery. They had loved each other, more than anything the world could ever provide.

They died when she was young, and she had been left in the care of close family friends. The family that adopted her had not been too terrible; in fact they were quite the opposite. Took care of all her needs until the day she was accepted into the Academy.

The sound of the conductor calling out for all to board the train, Synthia exhales a stream of grey smoke before flicking the spent cigarette to the ground; not even batting an eyelash as it sparks and bursts into flames.

She never did enjoy littering.

Boarding the train, Synthia ignores the curious looks thrown in her direction as she moves through the train car; searching for her fellow Sorcerers. Locating the compartment, her gaze sweeps over Marc Rowe (the protective and kind auburn-haired boy), Kalista Holmes (the strawberry-blonde beauty) and Harper Niles (the shy, but intelligent brunette). Aside from the handsome hawk perched on Kalista's shoulder, on the floor at their feet a snow-white fox, a lynx and a grey-white wolf all lay curled around each other.

Her friends were not alone.

Seeing the beautiful brown-haired girl, Synthia stops short of entering the compartment, but her presence doesn't go unnoticed as the wolf's ears perk up and its head lifts from the floor. The movement causes her friends to break out of their conversation with the brown-haired Hogwarts student.

"Oh, don't mind me. I was making sure the three of yous got on the train," Synthia remarks, waving off their startled expressions.

Marc clears his throat, "This is Alice Pruce, she's a Gryffindor." Synthia nods curtly when Marc introduces her to the Gryffindor, "We can make room if you want?"

Synthia snorts, shaking her head, "No. I'm fine. Daemyn," the wolf perks up at the sound of his name, "Come on, boy. Let's go find ourselves a compartment. I'll see you guys at Hogwarts."

As the handsome alpha-bred wolf follows at her ankles, Synthia manages to find an empty compartment in a completely different train car. Immediately lying down on the bench, she lets out a small huff of oxygen as Daemyn nestles between her legs, his muzzle resting on her stomach. Giggling at the sharp amber-blue eyes, Synthia folds an arm over her eyes as the opposite arms curls underneath her head. Closing her eyes, she wonders, not for the first time, if that damn Wizard hadn't been truly insane.

* * *

James Charlus Potter was an exceptionally well-known Gryffindor student, and if you asked anyone, they'd tell you how James Potter is arrogant, pig-headed and self-obsessed. They'd tell you how James Potter and his band of merry misfits are pranksters, bullies and never the types to take anything seriously. They would tell you all about his loving obsession with annoying the piss out of Lily Evans.

What they wouldn't tell you, maybe because they really don't know, is that James Potter is not, by no means, an idiot. He can remember every one of his fellow Gryffindors, and the names of every single one of his classmates, ranging from Fifth Years, to his own Sixth Year comrades, and to the Seventh Years. He can remember every face and every name; mostly because of a handy little map he and his friends made so long ago.

So having decided to leave the brooding Sirius Black to himself and Remus Lupin, who had been made a Gryffindor Prefect, had duties to tend to with the selected students. James had been unable to find Peter Pettigrew, who had left earlier to fetch some candies from the trolly. All and all, James Potter was left on his own to wander aimlessly along the train carts and thus, the hazel-eyed Quidditch player managed to come across an odd individual sprawled across one of the two benches in a mostly empty compartment.

A face he doesn't recognize.

Knocking on the window of the compartment door, he hears a small groan, "Whatevah yous selling, I don't want. So do everyone a favah and fuck off."

James blinks in surprise at the gravelly, weary feminine voice, the accent definitely not familiar to him; the poorly enunciated 'r's' and husky undertones. Smirking, he cocks a curious eyebrow before knocking again.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, man. Either come in or fuck off. Unlike most of yous, I happen to be severely jet-lagged."

Chuckling, James pushes his way into the compartment, tensing when a soft, warning growl rumbles from the beast sprawled on the girl's lap, "Sorry if I'm bothering you. There was no room in other compartments."

With a groan, the raven-haired girl sits upright, bright moss-green eyes meeting his own, "Whatevah. So, yous got a name or somethin'?"

Shifting his gaze from the canine's piercing gaze, the Gryffindor Sixth Year offers the odd girl a confident smile, "James Potter, and yourself?"

"Synthia Eris, but everyone calls me Syn," She motions toward the wolf draped across her lap, "This is Daemyn, my familiar."

James's eyebrows furrow thoughtfully. Witches and Wizards don't have familiars. They have pets, but not familiars. Knowing this, and knowing that this girl has never stepped foot into Hogwarts, James is only able to come up with one explanation.

"You're a Sorceress."

Her eyes bright with surprise, a small smile tugging at the edges of her lips, "Not bad, Potter. I figured some of yous would need more hints than familiars."

James grins at the girl's snark, "I happen to be smarter than I look," A husky, airy laugh leaves her lips, before he asks, "So, why are you here?"

"Exchange student," she replies easily, "One of four actually. For the next two yeahs, my fellow sorcery students and I are supposed to study Witchcraft and Wizardry and apply it to our independent studies."

"Sounds interesting," James remarks, "Where are you guys from? I don't think I've ever heard an accent like yours."

"United States," Synthia answers, "Um...let's see, Marc is a lovely Southern Gentleman, Kalista hails from California, the state of Washington for Harper, and I'm from New England."

"New England?"

A teasing smirk appears on her lips, "Yeah. Kinda like this one, only fresher." A huff of laughter escapes him, and despite the odd characteristics, he finds himself intrigued by this girl, "Actually, I grew up in Massachusetts. What about yous? Tell me about yourself."

During the next hour, James finds himself pulled into a lengthy conversation. They talk Quidditch (or more like he explains the game and vocalizes his surprise that she had never heard of it), schools (apparently the Salem Academy is more academic than Hogwarts; and that's really saying something), friends (from the sound of it, her friends are just as much of troublemakers as his own), and various other subjects. Aside from his three best friends (and his mild-obsession with Lily Evans), James has never really felt completely comfortable with a stranger before. Perhaps its her easy, almost lazy, demeanor.

"Oh, we probably need to change into our school robes."

Synthia snickers at his exclaim, "As an exchange student, my friends and I act as representatives for our school. We are not required to wear...uh...school robes."

"You don't have uniforms?"

She nods slowly, "We do, but...well, we don't wear them unless we are conducting lessons. Yous forgive me if I don't leap up at the chance to wear a uniform."

James grins as he moves to his feet, "Well, I have to get back to my original compartment. Maybe I will see you at the feast."

Chuckling at the mocking salute he receives, James sweeps out of the compartment. Strange bird, she is, but something tells him she would be right at home at Hogwarts.

* * *

"Oh dear Lord, what is _that_?" Kalista groans with disgust, her eyes moving over the blackish-grey winged horses standing at point before the several carriages.

"They do appear to be quite odd. Maybe they are an odd breed of Pegasus," Harper answers, shifting her weight nervously.

"Well, whatever the hell they are, they're creepy looking."

Grinning at the blonde beauty, Synthia giggles, "Aw, Kali, I think they are adorable."

Scoffing, the blonde shoots her friend a dirty look, "You would."

"I don't think I've ever seen them in America before," Marc adds, tilting his head curiously, "Wonder what they call 'em."

"Thestrels."

The quartet look away from the winged creature, their attentions pulled toward the lanky, sandy-blonde haired teen. Synthia's gaze sweeps over the faint scars decorating his visible skin, his amber-brown eyes soft and curious. Dressed in Hogwarts uniform, she takes in the accents of red and gold, a 'P' pinned to the front lapel of his blazer jacket.

"Sorry. My name is Remus Lupin. I'm a Gryffindor Prefect. You four must be the exchange students Dumbledore told me about in my letter this year."

The four quickly introduce themselves to Remus before turning their gazes back to the creature, Kalista jabbing a finger in its direction, "So, what exactly is this thing anyway? I can't see Hogwarts agreeing to allow such...creepy-looking animals to pull carriages to the school."

"Thestrels are invisible to all but those that have seen death."

Synthia's throat seizes, her bright-green eyes shuddering with pain before falling completely blank. She didn't want to remember. Dropping her gaze from the creature, Synthia swallows thickly, her fingers twitching as a new-found fire burns through her veins. She doesn't like remembering what had happened.

"Oh...well...weird," Marc breaks the silence nervously, casting a concerned glance at the silent ebony-haired girl.

Remus offers them a sympathetic smile before motioning for them to join him in the carriage. Synthia takes a seat next to Marc, her unfocused gaze trained on her hands as they settle on the top of Daemyn's head. Ignoring the outside world, she fights back the memories; the emotional pain, the haunting conversations and the phantom smells that assault her senses.

"Hey! I wasn't expect to see you so soon."

Popping her eyes up from her hands, she blinks at the sight of three new arrivals flanking Remus on either side. Sitting on Remus's right, a short, slightly-pudgy boy with thin yellow-blonde hair couldn't stop switching his gaze between the herself and her friends. On his left sat a handsome, dark-haired boy, his aristocratic features highlighting most of his attractiveness. On the opposite side of the dark-haired boy sat...James Potter.

Who was staring at her with the slightest hint of concern. Why is he concerned? A nudge from Marc causes her to shakes her head, offering the familiar Hogwarts student a half-assed smile.

"Sorry. I was lost in thought. Nice duds, by the way. Very posh, if I say so myself," Synthia snarks teasingly, a defensive mechanism she acquired _long_ ago.

James shoots her a cocky grin, "Aw, you think so? I always knew I looked good in a uniform. Are you alright? You seemed a little...lost in thought."

"I'm as fine as crisp wine in the summatime," she recounts cynically. "So, aside from Remus, who are these two? Friends yous managed to brainwash?"

Instead of being offended, James cackles at the girls retort, "Yeah. This is Sirius Black, you've already met Remus, and that there is Peter Pettigrew. So, what had you lot so shaken?"

Seeing the four exchange students share a telling glance, Remus offers them another sympathetic smile before answering, "They had never seen a Thestrel before coming here."

"Oh? You guys witnessed someone dying?" Peter squeeks out, eyes widening.

The hairs along the back of her neck stand upright, a wolfish grin appearing on her lips as a dangerous gleam flashes through her gaze. She doesn't like thinking about it. The very thought causes her hackles to raise and her body to tense with fury. It doesn't matter how many months have passed, she will never forget what happened.

Or her reaction.

"What's it to ya?" Synthia snaps.

"Syn!" Marc hisses, "Calm down."

"Calm down? Why the hell should I calm down? Who in their right mind asks a stranger a question like that?" Synthia turns her gaze on the visibly shaken Gryffindors, "We don't like to talk about it, so don't ask. Yous four mind your business."

"Oi, Syn! You're freakin' them out. It's not like they know," Kalista cuts in, placing a calming hand on her shoulder, "You're going all Yank on them."

The righteous fury fades and swirls into righteous indignation, "_Yank?_ Yank? Who yous callin' a Yank ya West Coast reject!"

"You. I'm calling you a Yank. Stop being such a dunce."

"Air-head."

"Stop being a child."

The heated tension fades as the two girls bicker among each other, the four Gryffindors watching with thinly veiled curiosity as Marc gives them an exasperated look, "Don't mind the two of 'em. Kali is the only one that can anchor Syn's...uh...anger flux."

"She didn't have to bite Peter's head off," Sirius remarks in defense of his friend.

"We lost a friend of ours last term," Harper's soft voice causes the four Gryffindors to still in their seats, Marc placing a comforting arm over her shoulders as her eyes grow somber, throwing a quick glance at Synthia, "The two had been the best of friends since the day they met, what with both of them being legacies and whatnot."

"Legacies?" James echoes, glancing over briefly at the two bickering girls, his eyes taking in the slow release of tension along Synthia's shoulders and facial features.

"Oh yeah. Legacies is a term used to label those that are born from Masters. There aren't many that study Sorcery that actually come from parents that carry similar traits. It caused both of them to...stand apart from the rest of the school and it brought them together. They were...family, in every way but blood," Marc recalls, smiling as Synthia's heartfelt laughter breaks through the bickering.

The majority of the group falls silent, listening as Synthia and Kalista continue to converse quickly, the back-and-forth banter playful. Inwardly sighing, Marc wonders, definitely not for the first time, if taking this mission was such a good idea. Eyeing the approaching castle, a small sense of anticipation fills the pit of his stomach.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Alright, Prologue and Chapter One are both posted on the same day. I know Synthia seems to be mean in this chapter, but she really isn't. Like most people, Synthia doesn't like thinking about the death of her best friend and often has bursts of fury. She isn't usually quick to anger, in fact, she is level-headed and cheerful most of the time, but she does have her own triggers. Like I said in the Prologue, I want you to like my characters, and I promise, her being a 'Legacy' doesn't make her all-powerful; but you will realize that when we cross that bridge. Think of the term Legacy taken in context as Mudblood would be for muggleborns. Next chapter will give you a better understand of my OC's personalities and such.**

**If you want an idea of their 'casual' outfits: Marc usually dresses in simple jeans and a flannel t-shirt, Harper dresses like a 'hippie', Kalista makes her own clothes and carries a more sophisticate style and Synthia is a 70's Punk-Rocker. **

**Read. Review. Thanks again.**


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